


not long ago, i gave up hope (but you came along and gave me something i could hold on to)

by boypoison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x23, Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, im sorry about this i only know how to write angst, this is when castiel dies in childbirth and we see dean grieve his lost lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boypoison/pseuds/boypoison
Summary: He can’t stop staring at Castiel, at the hole in his chest where the angel blade ran him through, at the scorch marks in the shape of wings. Dean had no idea Castiel’s wings were that big. All at once, it occurs to Dean that he’s never seen Castiel’s true form—he can’t even begin to imagine what Castiel really looks like—and now he’ll never know. Castiel is dead. Gone. He’s wherever angels go when they died, and Dean will never see him again.---between 12x23 and 13x01, dean has to say goodbye to castiel
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 10





	not long ago, i gave up hope (but you came along and gave me something i could hold on to)

The world cracks. And then it shatters.

  
Dean is aware that he has been kneeling next to Castiel’s body for a very long time. His knees hurt where they rest heavily on the gravel. Dean is also aware that he can’t really see. It’s dark and his eyes are blurred with tears and his newly shattered world is no longer shiny because _Cas was dead._

  
Dean should probably see if Sam is alright, if Jack is contained, if Kelly somehow survived childbirth. He should get up, get Castiel inside so his body would be safe, get himself to safety; who knew what kind of monsters would come looking for such a powerful Nephilim. He should start brainstorming a way to reopen the rift and save Mary. But Dean can’t move. He can’t stop staring at Castiel, at the hole in his chest where the angel blade ran him through, at the scorch marks in the shape of wings. Dean had no idea Castiel’s wings were that big. All at once, it occurs to Dean that he’s never seen Castiel’s true form—he can’t even begin to imagine what Castiel really looks like—and now he’ll never know. Castiel is dead. Gone. He’s wherever angels go when they died, and Dean will never see him again.

  
Dean can’t stop staring at Castiel’s face. He can’t stop staring at the worry lines that have finally smoothed out into an illusion of peaceful sleep. Dean can almost trick himself into thinking that Castiel isn’t dead, that his blue eyes could open at any moment. Every time Dean sinks into the comfort of that lie, every time he swears he sees Castiel’s chest move a fraction of an inch, his eyes refocus on the hole over Castiel’s heart and reality comes crashing back down.

  
Dean is aware that time passes. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Sam seems to understand that Dean needs to be alone with Castiel right now; he hasn’t tried to come and take Dean from his grief. Dean maintains his position in the shadow of Castiel’s scorched wings. He is the supplicant knelt at the feet of a God who will not hear his suffering. He is the sinner awaiting his execution. He is the lover torn from his love.

  
It’s not a sudden realization. Dean is in love with Castiel. He pushes that thought to the side; he can’t allow himself to think about it right now without breaking. Dean’s grief opens its maw and consumes him wholly.

\--

Some time later, Sam emerges from the cabin and stands a respectful distance from Dean. Dean is only vaguely aware that he is no longer alone. He can barely think. He is simultaneously the raw nerve left behind by a severed limb and the dead limb itself. Dean’s grief ebbs slightly before it crashes back into him in a never-ending cycle. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to move on from this vast painful nothing inside him in the shape of Castiel.

  
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him die,” Dean says quietly, his voice alien to his own ears. He can feel the pity rolling off Same in suffocating waves.

  
“Dean—” Sam starts. Dean can’t hear him, knows that everything will hurt if he lets himself hear Sam acknowledge Castiel’s death. Dean speaks over him.

  
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen his wings. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him stabbed in the heart, though. Remember April? He thought he was in love with her,” Dean barks out a humorless laugh, aware of the jealousy that tinges his words. Sam is silent.

  
“He was only a human then. His wings wouldn’t have shown up. I thought I had lost him for good that time. I think he wished I had let him die instead using Gadreel to heal him. I know you probably wish I had let him die instead of letting Gadreel use your body. But, Sammy, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t,” Dean’s voice broke. Fresh tears blurred his vision. Castiel’s peaceful face turned watery at the edges.

  
“Dean,” Sam says again, voice quiet and sad. Dean lets him speak this time.

  
“You did what you had to do that time. You did the right thing. Castiel knew we needed him and I’m sure you were forgiven. There’s nothing you could have done this time, but I know you would give anything to have him back. I’m sure he’s already forgiven you everything. Please don’t be too hard on yourself. Losing Cas is already going to be hard enough on you. Please don’t make it worse,” Sam is pleading now. Dean wants to smile at how well Sam knows him, but he can’t bring himself to do more than press his lips together in a futile effort to stifle a sob.

  
Eventually, Dean is able to speak again.

  
“I love him, Sam.”

  
Sam moves closer, reaching out a hand to squeeze Dean’s shoulder. Dean heaves another sob.

  
“I know, Dean,” Sam says after a long moment, his own throat constricting around grief. Dean cries at his feet, too heartbroken to be embarrassed.

\--

At some point, in the early hours of the morning, Sam kneels next to Dean and wraps his arms around him. Exhausted, Dean no longer cries. He stares at unseeingly at Castiel’s wings and clings to Sam. Dean can feel the nothingness inside him grow wider with every passing second. Finally, in a desperate attempt to forget some of his heartbreak, Dean asks about Jack.

  
“He’s gone,” Sam says. Dean nods without comprehending.

  
“We need to find him. Cas would want us to find him,” Sam continues. Dean’s once again focused on the hole in Castiel’s chest. He pushes away from Sam. He stands for the first time in hours. It doesn’t feel right; he feels too far from Castiel.

  
“Cas is dead because of him,” Dean says quietly, eyes glued to the angel blade at Castiel’s side. Sam makes a noise of disapproval before pushing to his feet.

  
“That’s not true, Dean. Cas is dead because of Lucifer. Jack is just a newborn. He’s just a kid. We have to find him and keep him safe before the angels kill him,” Sam says patiently. Anger flashes through Dean. He turns to face his brother.

  
“Lucifer killed Cas because Cas was trying to protect the kid. Mom is gone because she was trying to protect the kid. We don’t know if she’s even alive and we don’t know how to find her. Kelly is dead because of the kid. I don’t think it’s the kid who needs protecting, Sam,” Dean says harshly.

  
Dean can’t stomach the pitying look on Sam’s face. He pinches the bridge of his nose before returning his attention to Castiel.

  
“We’ll find him, and we’ll look after him because it’s what Cas would want. But trust me, Sam, the second he even thinks about hurting another person, I will end him,” Dean says. Sam sighs, but remains silent.

  
Dean turns his face to the sky. He thinks of praying, of playing the penitent, but the only person who ever answers his prayers is lying dead at his feet. Instead, Dean watches the pre-dawn grey creep across the darkness. He thinks of the millions of sunrises Castiel must have seen and wonders if any of them had ever looked as dull as this one.

  
“We should take him inside,” Sam says.

  
“Yeah,” Dean agrees. Sam steps toward Castiel and something primal wells up in Dean.

  
“Don’t,” he snaps. Sam falters and turns to stare at him. Dean feels an immediate rush of guilt. This isn’t Sam’s fault. There’s too much anger in Dean; he’s powerless in the face of it. Suddenly, he’s no longer angry—he’s exhausted.

  
“Just. Don’t touch him. I’ll do it,” Dean says, scrubbing a hand across his face.

  
“Dean, you can’t carry him inside by yourself. Let me help,” Sam says. Dean set his jaw and shakes his head once. There’s a confused rush of anger and sadness on Sam’s face.

  
“I cared about him, too, Dean,” Sam says. Dean almost smiles.

  
“Not like I did,” Dean says quietly, once again kneeling by Castiel’s side.

\--

Dean is alone in the cabin. Kelly is still in the bed upstairs, so Castiel lies across the kitchen table. Dean mechanically unfolds the spare sheet and drapes it over Castiel’s body. Only after he’s covered does Dean allow himself to feel the full depth of his sorrow. It rises quickly. It consumes him. It is an acute awareness that part of himself is missing. It’s dull ache because he knows he cannot fully recover. Dean feels an urgent need to talk. He doesn’t know if Castiel can hear him anymore.

  
“Cas,” he begins. His voice breaks on this single syllable. Dean cries for a long time. It’s an activity he seldom indulges, but Dean thinks that if there was ever a time to be selfish with his emotions, this is it.

  
“Please, Cas. I don’t know where you are—if you’re in Heaven, or what—and I don’t know if you can hear me, but please. You came back to me every other you’ve died. I need you to come back to me this time, too. Please. I can’t face this without you, man. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I used to be hopeless, Cas, but you gave me hope. I need you,” Dean confesses.  
He remembers years earlier, on his knees before Castiel, face bloody from Castiel’s fists, Castiel’s angel blade raised and ready to kill. Dean remembers telling Castiel he needed him, remembers how certainly he had known that he loved Castiel, how much he had wanted to say it but didn’t have the courage. Dean wishes bitterly he had found the courage when Castiel was still alive, when he could still do something about it. Dean draws a shaky breath and finally says it:

  
“I love you, Castiel.”

\--

Sam finds him later, a chair drawn up beside Castiel’s linen-wrapped body, staring blankly at the wall. Sam places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dean blinks back into awareness, a sharp pang of sadness slicing through him as reality materializes around him.

  
“I finished building the pyre. Whenever you’re ready,” Sam says kindly. Dean nods.

  
He wishes he had something to drink. He doesn’t want to remember this grief. He’s glad he didn’t have the strength to look for something to drink. He would never forgive himself if he forgot what grieving Castiel felt like. Dean imagines he’ll never stop grieving Castiel. He’ll never have the opportunity to forget what it feels like.

  
Dean allows Sam to help him carry Castiel’s body this time. Dean is grateful he can share the weight of this with someone; he fears he would drown if he had to burn Castiel by himself.

  
Dean watches as the flames lick across Castiel’s body. He feels haunted. Hollow. The smoke turns black and acrid and Dean is vaguely disappointed. He had been wondering if an angel’s vessel would smell any different from a human when it burned. Sam asks if Dean wants to say anything. Dean doesn’t hear him. He stares at the pyre, wishing he were burning alongside Castiel.

  
Dean finds himself saying a silent prayer to Castiel.

  
_I love you I love you I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! 
> 
> title from "the world has it's shine (but i would drop it on a dime)" by cobra starship
> 
> oh wow this is my first fic in a very long time and my first supernatural fic since probably 2014. post-destiel canonization sure is a wonderful time to be alive. i'm sorry about the angst, it's what i'm best at writing, apparently.


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